Gringott's Lesser Known Branch
by Brenn.K
Summary: Few in the Wizarding world have a true understanding of the inner structure of the Goblin Nation or its corporate representative, Gringott's Bank, much less any clue about how far they will go to protect their investments.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Gringott's Lesser Known Branch

Rating: G – with the possibility of going up (it is just a plot bunny after all)

Summary: Few in the Wizarding world have a true understanding of the inner structure of the Goblin Nation or its corporate representative to the wizarding community, Gringott's Bank, much less any clue about how far they will go to protect their investments.

A Profitable Investment,

Harry had barely even a moment to blink as the door to his cupboard was flung open; a hand that wasn't his aunt's, uncle's, or cousin's reached in and dragged him out; and a shiny metal stick with odd writing was waved in front of his face.

Soft odd whispers in a different language than any he had ever heard on the telly captured his attention lulling him into a strange passivity when he really did know that he should be frightened – particularly, when his aunt was shrieking in a strangely high pitched scream unlike any of the screams that she made for mice or spiders or roaches or even the really scary scream that she made when he sometimes caused ... odd things to happen.

He knew he should have been frightened by the oddly flat voice that instructed his aunt, "We are dissatisfied with the current level of neglect that you demonstrate in the maintenance and upkeep of your nephew. After investigation, it was discovered that this situation has continued unchecked since he was initially placed in your custody by Albus Dumbledore six years ago. As neither the wizarding nor muggle communities have seen fit to intervene in your nephew's behalf, despite his strategic importance, the board of directors has seen fit to invalidate your assignment of custody without penalty. If you choose to dispute this action, you have thirty days to employ a barrister from the ministry of magic to issue an application for appeal to the nearest Gringott Branch in Little Hampstead. If no appeal is filed, the matter will be marked closed at the end of the appeal period.

If, however, you do wish to file an appeal, instruct your barrister to include copies of all receipts paid for the care and upkeep of your nephew as well external, third-party testimony to the fact that the materials purchased were used solely for the upkeep and care of Harry Potter. If these receipts fall within the currently accepted standards for the care and maintenance of wizarding children, the matter will be forwarded to the Board of Appeals, who will initiate a secondary, year-long investigation into the past and present circumstances of your household to determine whether you are capable of caring for the child appropriately. If it is deemed necessary, in the process of this investigation, to alert authorities regarding the results of the board's inquiry, Gringott's does not have a preference of jurisdiction and you may petition the board to submit the results to a governing body of your choice, be it muggle or wizarding. Are these instructions clear to you?"

"Y-y-ye-s, " Harry's aunt stuttered, apparently understanding more of the gravely voiced instructions than Harry did.

"Very well," the voice commented as Harry felt himself being lifted and propped against what he suspected was a shoulder. "Good Afternoon, then, you may expect a bill for our services to be delivered by owl within twenty four hours."

"Wh-wha-t are you going to do with him until ..." Aunt Petunia finally recovered a bit of her familiar tone and sense to ask a question that Harry was only just then beginning to ask himself.

"Until the matter is settled satisfactorily, Mr. Potter will be placed in the supervision of a caretaker employed by Gringott's in one of its lesser known branches. If you should wish to contact myself or the representative to arrange visitation with your nephew, the instructions will be included with my bill. Good Afternoon."

"But, but-- --" Harry thought his aunt had said something else after that, but the door closing in her face had cut her words off.

_Thirty-one Days Later, _

Harry was tightening the strap at his collar for the second time when the door opened behind him.

"Second Assistant, Hibby, Sir. Could you show me how to do my lead again? I don't think I will ever get this right."

"I will be certain to inform Hibby of that necessity, Harry."

"Mgr. Griphook, Sir!" Harry spun on his heels and dropped into a deep respectful bow. "I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't realize that I should expect you this morning. I would have been ready earlier."

"Yes, yes. Harry. I realize that this meeting would come as a surprise, but merely for the fact that management wished to be certain that the Dursleys did not intend to pursue an appeal before we arranged for your ongoing training."

Lowering himself from his polite bow, to kneel on one knee, Harry silently indicated that he had a question and waited hopefully to be acknowledged.

"Harry, this is not the first time that I have had to tell you that you are neither a domesticated elf nor a goblin, proper. You may ask your question without a customary display of obeisance – in accordance with your wizarding background."

"Yes, Mgr. Griphook, Sir, but is it not like scowling at goat'sblood soup? Muggle's and Wizards might be discourteous enough to sneer or scowl at the traditional offering made to guests, but it would not reflect well on the training and attention paid me by Gringotts if I was so discourteous."

"True, child. You do hold to your notions don't you. Very well, I have no objection to proper displays of courtesy – so long as they are not made in wizarding public, where they would diminish the image of our propriety or place our investments into speculation."

"Yes, Mgr."

"Now, that we have spent more time on an already spent subject, I believe you may have a question."

"Yes, Mgr. I am not surprised that my former relatives were willing to abandon their claim on me so readily, but ..." Harry stumbled on his question and blushed with abject embarrassment.

The first lesson that he had learned under Manager Griphook's supervision was that time was money. A question should not be asked before it was fully ready to be answered succinctly and definitively. Hesitation and ambiguity were intolerable.

This time, however, his manager seemed to understand, though not without a raised eyeridge.

"But... why has no one else made a claim on you? Did we not publish it publicly enough for interested parties to respond within the alloted time period?" he suggested.

Harry nodded, still embarrassed, but less so when it was clear that he understood what he wanted to ask.

"Child, I cannot answer to that. You saw yourself the announcement placed in the _Daily Prophet, _and other wizarding papers. The Minister, himself, did inquire – but for the reasons that we explained to you on your arrival, we did not feel that either he or the Headmaster- who both allowed you to be placed at your relatives without further follow up, were sufficiently concerned with your well-being and potential to adequately protect our investments. He was, however, persuaded to accept that you would be better placed in our care than in the Headmaster's. As far as the Headmaster is to be considered, while he was named as the executor of your parent's wills, when he placed you with your aunt, he expressly and explicitly broke the terms of these documents and no longer has a vested claim in your custody."

"Yes, Mgr. Thank you for answering my question."

"Information is power, Harry. We profit nothing by allowing you to make ill informed decisions."

Nodding quietly, Harry returned to the quarter bow that was permitted once a junior member had been engaged in a discussion.

"Now, on to other matters. You will need a change of wardrobe for this morning. President Ragnrok wishes to make an appraisal of you this morning to determine the proper direction of our time and galleons."

"I'll change immediately, Mgr." Harry answered obediently, already subconsciously reaching to remove his training collar and halter.

"Ah, yes, but into what? How should you best display yourself?" Mgr. Griphook asked quietly.

Recognizing it as a test, Harry thought hurriedly over everything that Mgr. Griphook, First Assistant Ebby and Second Assistant Hibby had told him over the past month, and pulled open his drawers to examine the eight sets of attire that the elves had cut, sewn, and charmed specifically to his size and needs. Finally, acting on instinct, he pulled out his physical training outfit. Unlike the tunnel training outfit, his physical training uniform did not need a collar and halter that could be linked to a magical guideline, which would keep him from falling or being injured in any of the numerous tunnels and carts tracks that littered Gringott's underground facilities.

Instead, it was quite like the gym uniform he had worn at his muggle school, but with tight black tank and shorts were matched by closely tailored gym shoes, like a gymnast might wear. Instead of hiding his lack of physical development under overlong shirts and baggy shorts, his current physical training outfit clung tightly to his skin showing off what little muscle tone he had been able to develop in his stringy muscles over the past month. He knew he didn't look impressive in it, and wondered if he had made the correct choice when he turned back around to see Mgr. Griphook's eyeridges raised sharply.

"That is an interesting choice," Griphook commented in a stern tone. "Would you care to explain your decision? This hardly accentuates the strength of your assets."

"A property's impenetrable wards, impregnable walls, and marble columns are for not, if the property beneath can not support its weight." Harry quoted the mgr.'s own instruction on the importance of understanding the weakness of every investment.

"Very well." Griphook agreed with a smirk, "Let us see if the President and Senior Partners concur. Five paces should be sufficient."

Falling in five paces behind his manager, Harry quietly whispered the mantra of 'inescapable' rules that he had been instructed in – one a day – since his manager had deposited him in the care of his personal assistants, Ebby and Hibby.

_"The first inescapable rule of existence is that time is money." _

_"The second - principle hoarded is profit lost." _

_"The third – knowledge is principle waiting to be spent."_

_"The fourth – an unasked question is profit lost."_

_"The fifth – image is the shepherd of success, intelligence is its coin." _

_"The sixth – a weakness is an profit in disguise." _

_"The seventh – there is no greater folly than action without knowledge."_

_"The eighth – a competitor's spy is your best servant."_

_"The ninth – your spy is your competitor_'s _until__given a stake in your profit."_

_"The tenth – a tarnished sickle still weighs the same."_

_"The eleventh – if the scale's don't balance, weigh again."_

_"The twelfth – the first duty on waking and last duty before sleeping is to balance accounts."_

_"The thirteenth – a knut miscounted is a galleon lost"_

_"The fourteenth – the galleon's seed is a knut."_

_"The fifteenth – savor the fruit but plant the seed."_

_"The sixteenth – a hen killed is an opportunity lost."_

_"The seventeenth – one can see the dropped knut when he bows deeply enough."_

_"The eighteenth – diplomacy serves two roles: to ease a knife into your back and to ease it out."_

_"The nineteenth – trust is a commodity when given by others- a folly when given to others."_

_"The twentieth – blood and friendship bought cheaply are soon spent."_

_"The twenty-first – wards and walls are for not, if the ground can not support their weight."_

_"The twenty-second – a foundation of stone will crack if built upon water."_

_"The twenty-third – before laying the foundations, dig deep."_

_"The twenty-fourth – an estate is lost through a hole in the pocket."_

_"The twenty-fifth – never trust an elf you don't own, never mistreat an elf you do."_

_"The twenty-sixth – elves and children hear everything, consult them if in doubt."_

_"The twenty-seventh – if the road splits into two paths – you can only take one."_

_"The twenty-eighth – you'll find no gold on a well-walked path."_

_"The twenty-ninth – invest only what you are willing to risk; risk only what you are willing to gain."_

_"The thirtieth – if you will not invest in yourself, neither will Gringotts." _

When he was about to begin the mantra a second time, Mgr. Griphook flicked his claws appreciatively and complimented, "Down to the knut, Harry. I imagine you'll be wearing a coin belt even sooner than Hollow-eyes suspected."

Harry flushed at the implied double compliment. He had guessed that the tunnel manager had been pleased with the number of reports that his team had delivered to their respective offices, but if the staunch tunnel manager had spoken with his manager, Hollow-eyes must have been pleased.

"Thank you, Mgr. Griphook." Harry answered eagerly.

Once he earned one of the knotted coin belts, Harry could start earning knuts and sickles to invest in additional tutoring sessions with the various trainers and purchase some of the materials and supplies that had been holding him back from his preparatory lessons in potions, herbology, transfiguration, and runes. Arithmacy and accounting were the only subjects that he was not being held back in due to a lack of materials, but as they were more complicated subjects, he was certain that he would soon need to schedule additional sessions with those instructors as well.

Almost before Harry realized it, Mgr. Griphook had stopped and was opening a door to the larger conference room. Harry had never been in it before, so he was a little bit stunned at its spartan interior. He had expected the meeting room to be decorated befitting the rank of their visitor.

Mgr. Griphook had mentioned previously that although President Ragnrok had initiated the Little Hampstead Branch offices, some forty years earlier, to address matters of the wizarding community's general unwillingness to protect some of their more strategically placed offspring, he did not generally dabble in their day to day activities. He preferred instead to leave the offspring in the hands of tested and generally trusted managers – visiting only when new 'investments' were found to appraise their suitability for the program that he had initiated.

Some, regrettably, lacked the mental and emotional wherewithal to benefit from the program and had to be turned over to the ministry of magic for obliviation and often had been returned to their original guardians – but those who did possess the requisite facilities were taken in and trained to the height of their abilities. By all reports, their latest investment seemed to be the latter, but protocol had to be adhered to even in regards to the famed boy who lived, and the President had been waiting most curiously to observe with the boy.

Watching the child's interaction with his investment manager, from earlier, in the charmed viewing screen, Ragnrok was pleased by the respectful manner that child showed his manager and amused by the boy's astute observation on the fallacy of wizarding ettiquette. Griphook had apparently done a thorough job of teaching the boy the _Thirty rules... _Well enough, that the child could integrate them into casual conversation and explain his choice of Garb. The child's quick deference and abeyance were satisfying as well. Perhaps this child, would indeed become an advocate between the Goblin Nation and the Wizarding community that Ragnrok had been hoping for when he initiated the branch. The final coin in the bag was the child's disconcerted expression when he entered the meeting room. Clearly, he had been expecting something different something that bespoke of a President's presence.

"Yes, this child is going to be a profitable investment." Ragnrok commented in gobbledygook to Griphook; he could feel it in his eye teeth, and his teeth had never been wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Gringott's Lesser Known Branch – 2

Rating: G – with the possibility of going up (it is just a plot bunny after all)

Summary: Few in the Wizarding world have a true understanding of the inner structure of the Goblin Nation or its corporate representative to the wizarding community, Gringott's Bank, much less any clue about how far they will go to protect their investments.

_"The first inescapable rule of existence is that time is money."_

**_GLKB, 2_**

"Hibby," eight year old, Harry Potter called for his personal assistant as he entered his quarters.

"Yes, Harry?" the elf asked as it bounded into the room. Despite its initial reservations, the boy's constant request to 'just be called Harry' had eventually worn away the title 'Master'. They observed formalities in public, of course, just as Harry never knelt down to Mgr. Griphook when the Minister of Magic showed for his monthly visit.

"Could you contact Potions Master Gavrok, please, and inquire when he may have an open period to review my latest potions assignment?"

"Oh, Sir. Did the Knott-Torquay merger fall through as you predicted?" Hibby asked eagerly. Harry's insistance hadn't been able to wear away the Sir, yet, but at the moment, the boy didn't mind.

"Yep, and I won thirty sickles off of Jessup because of it." Hary pumped his heel to make the coin belt shake.

"Oh, that's excellent, Sir. Will you be wanting me to purchase that block of marble for transfiguration, then?"

"No, Hibby, I've been thinking about that. Could you discreetly ask Tunnel Manager's Second Assistant, Eckr, how much the tunnel manager is requesting to review applications for the cart training?"

"Harry..." Hibby murmured with an anxious note. "You is too young to be in those bad dangerous, fast flying carts." Hibby protested, falling back into his less formal grammatical house elf dialect as the elf always did when he was upset.

"Not this again. Hibby, I know that you're worried about me, but I've always done things earlier than I probably should have; it's just one of my talents. Besides that, you know that I know my way around the tracks better than any of the others, and being able to use the cart would let me finish the delivering the reports much earlier so that I can have more time for tutoring sessions and get paid better for timely deliveries."

"Yes. Yes. You's be telling Hibby this and telling Hibby this," the elf fussed, "But, you's not be mentioning how you's was needing the healer called to yous after the last time yous was in a cart. You's not be mentioning that you's had to be spending galleons... GALLEONS! On the potions to be making you betters and then working and working days again to make it back by the knut. Hibby wonders why you is not saying anything about that? HMMM?"

"Hhhrggh. Why I didn't say anything about that is because I wasn't responsible for that cart wreck, if you'll remember. Jessup was. He wasn't listening to Tunnel Manager Hollow-eyes when the manager explained about the new brake system on the carts for that level."

"Yes, yes. But you's was hurt."

"Of course. I know that, but really, I need to earn just a bit more just a bit faster so that I can book more time with Potions Master Gavrok. Because of all of the potions ingredients and materials you have to buy for that course, it's the one I'm most behind in."

"There is much time for you to take the classes left."

"No, there's not. Hibby, I've already been here a year, did you realize that? I'm eight. There's only three years left until I go to Hogwarts. Mgr. Griphook believes that I can earn a summer internship in the Hogsmeade Branch, but only if I can complete the minimum training levels required of a goblin at eleven."

"Hmmph. Of course. I won't say anything more then. It is much more important for you to make the summer internship than it is for you to come back to Hibby and Ebby. Even if it means that you will be landing in a bloody heap when the next cart flips you out and then you may not even have the money to pay your healer because you've spent it all on your potions project."

"Oh, so that's what's bothering you."

"Hibby is not bothered."

"Enough. I've already spoken with Mgr. Griphook. The funds my parents left me does include a domestic servant stipend: a rather sizable one. I will be able to hire you, possibly both of you, if you wish to come with me when I leave for Hogwarts. Mgr. Griphook has already spoken with the Deputy Headmistress, who informed him that because I am are the sole heir of my house as well as an orphan, they will be able to make a small allowance for me- permitting me the assistance of least one domestic elf to help maintain my family's estate so that I may my homework and other responsibilities. "

"Hibby would be very pleased to be join you at Hogwarts, but Ebby is not comfortable with losing secure employment that she has at Gringotts."

"Well, there may be something that can be arranged. I will have to speak with Mgr. Griphook about our possibilities."

"Thank you, Sir." The elf squeaked as he lightly settled Harry's financial journals on the desk beside the boy.

"Thank you, Hibby."

"Will you be wishing for special meals tonight, Sir?" The elf questioned, apparently equally prone to pigeon grammar when he was excited as well.

"No, thank you, Hibby. Whatever you and Ebby will be having will suffice."

"Yes, Harry." Hibby sighed shaking his head. Both he and Ebby found it somewhat disturbing how complacently their Harry had accepted the Goblin's standards of behavior as well as their knut and sickle philosophy. They didn't object to either really, but it just didn't seem normal that a human child – a wizard child, at that – would accept another culture's strictures without a second thought. A prime example of it was his preference for elf fare whenever he wasn't dining with guests. To their knowledge, none of the other wizarding heirs at the Hampstead Branch had chosen the meager, if nutritionally balanced, largely vegetarian rations that Gringott's Elves were customarily given, but Harry had been frankly thrilled with the simple salads and stews, sometimes even requesting smaller portions when Ebby – in her occasional fits of distress at his menu would add some enticement she was certain he could not resist.

Turning back to his journals, Harry considered the matter of Hibby's wife for several seconds, even though he knew that he should be concentrating on clearing his thoughts to focus on balancing his accounts. The thought of leaving Ebby behind troubled him, but he had recognized sometime ago that she was very happily placed as a Gringott's elf and had no desire to leave. It had become quite apparent whenever he discussed Hogwarts that the subject disturbed her. Hibby, on the other hand, seemed more sensitive to the thought of being left behind and had actually looked forward to the thought of Hogwarts until a snappish Ebby, one evening asked Hibby what made him think that he would be welcomed at Hogwarts where they already had a staff of elves. From that time on, Hibby had become difficult on the subject while Ebby relaxed.

After speaking with Mgr. Griphook, Harry thought he had solved Hibby's desire to go, but now wondered if there was an answer that wouldn't cause stress between the elves. The two were still young, by elven standards, and had not petitioned either Harry or his manager for permission to procreate, but Harry suspected that it was only due to the fact that Hibby was still rising in the elven ranks. Ebby often bragged of his status as when they welcomed other elves and of the fact that Hibby had much more in him and would have been a first assistant if Mgr. Griphook had not assigned her, as his third assistant to oversee Harry's care. Although they never said why, Griphook's assignment of one of his personal assistant's was an unusual occurrence, and Harry wondered if it wasn't somehow the key to their problem.

Tapping his quill on the edge of its inkwell, Harry paused considering the matter several seconds more before he decided to ask Griphook about it in the morning and tapped the quill a final time until there was only a thin glaze of ink coating it's razor sharp nib. Harry quickly worked through the day's receipts, neatly copying the day's debits and credits into their respective journals and columns in the general ledger. The self-totaling fields at the end of each column were charmed to cross-check for miscalculations as soon as Harry rested the quill in the raised pen rest of it's stand instead of the inkwell and to fine his discretionary account a full galleon if mistakes were found.

It was a stiff penalty when the error might be as small as a quarter of a knut, but Harry and the other heirs all knew that it was only put in place to ensure that the Goblin's children and human ward's rapidly gained an appreciation for the precision required for employment in any of the Gringott's branches – even Little Hampstead, which was manned primarily by humans and had a large muggle clientèle, who were completely unaware that the inner offices were staffed with creatures they had only heard of as the villains of their fairy tales. As such, such, though stiff, it was successful on several levels both training their youth in the necessary precision to later fulfill their job requirements, and in weeding out candidates who were unsuitable for positions in their upper levels. Goblins and their human charges, who could not achieve the necessary precision were, as a result of the fines – which could be applied as often as the balances were done (on a twice daily schedule – morning and night) often could not afford to pay the fees to have their applications reviewed for apprenticeships, which in turn were necessary steps to achieving employment in the banks upper levels.

Subsequently, Harry carefully scanned each column in the general ledger, quickly doing the math over in his head – three full times before finally holding his breath, wiping the nib on the edge of the inkwell, and setting his quill back in its rest. Waiting breathlessly, Harry barely kept from reaching for the quill again, but even if he found an error now, it wouldn't matter; the incantation would start immediately. In any event, he had gone ninety-three days without a single miscalculation, so he probably didn't have any reason to worry – but, he was so close to having the lab fees and tuitions for Potion Master Gavrok as well as enough to put in his first application for cart training (despite what he said to Hibby, he knew the Tunnel Master might very well think him to young to train on the carts yet – and he might be required to apply several times if he was to be accepted at all, but if he wasn't willing to invest in himself...) that a galleon's loss would be devastating.

As if the very thought of it had tempted fate too far, the ebony ink shining in the debit column's subtotal field lost tone and contrast in a painfully slow color change – from shining black to muddy crimson to transparent. The color change triggered a sweeping transformation on the page: erasing thirty-two lines – back to the balance from his journal detailing the Inherited Investments from the Potter Family Estate. Digging the journal out of its stack, Harry threw open its cover, scanned its credits and groaned softly as he dropped his forehead on the journal. He hadn't checked the journal because out of all of the known family investments, the earliest expected returns for the month weren't due for another two days. But, there it was.

50 knuts.

50 knuts that he hadn't thought to look for - even knowing that his father had been a betting man before his death.

His father had made a wizard's bet on the prospects of a Knott-Torquay merger falling through, when the merger negotiations had first initiated fifteen years earlier. As most merger negotiations were often concluded within a two to three year period, he had not even thought to look back to see if his father had cast a bet that the merger would fail – in his father's favor – crediting their accounts with fifty knuts. An unexpected fifty knuts that had just lost him almost all of the thirty sickles he had just won from Jessup.


	3. Chapter 3

Gringott's Lesser Known Branch

Rating: G – with the possibility of going up (it is just a plot bunny after all)

Summary: Few in the Wizarding world have a true understanding of the inner structure of the Goblin Nation or its corporate representative to the wizarding community, Gringott's Bank, much less any clue about how far they will go to protect their investments.

_The Second Inescapable Principle: Hoarded knowledge profits none._

The Cartmaster's Assistant.

"Cart assistant thirteen o'three." Cartmanager Holloweyes barked loudly and nodded as one of the assistants broke from the string of cart assistants standing at stiff attention in the hall.

Running forward, Harry quickly bowed in the normally low bow - common to courteous young goblins - before he realized that the cart manager Holloweyes had been joined by a tall wizard with a dark aspect and glare. Wincing in expectation of the Cartmaster's barked chastisement, Harry was startled when the Cartmanager Holloweyes, instead, switched to gobbledygook with a rueful growl.

"The Headmaster has sent another of his staff to appraise your circumstances – under the guise of opening a secondary vault for Hogwarts – in this branch, though it has no proximity to any of Hogwart's properties."

"Except me?" Harry sighed, bitterly, in fluent gobbledygook, discounting the wizard's startled expression to the fact that few adult wizards learned more than a spattering of gobbledygook.

Holloweyes gave a quick jerky nod in confirmation as he gestured for other cart assistant's to certain tasks. In recent meetings, of branch managers, there had been numerous discussions regarding the Headmaster's inappropriately proprietary attitude toward his the boy.

One after another of the elderly wizard's emissaries had toured the branch, each inquiring in some manner or other after the child's condition until there could be no doubt as to the Headmaster's true motivation. Potter had been informed almost immediately after the most recent emissary had attempted (unsuccessfully) to pull disparaging comments from the boy about his living conditions and the goblins in general, with the clear intention of maligning the Goblins ability to care for the boy-who-lived properly and stealing his custody.

"As you say," Holloweyes agreed before offering a warning to the human. "Guard your neck and your knutsack with this one around, Wormroot, his scent is sharp enough to think he's just come from training with Four Claws, and he doesn't waste his teeth on smiles. "

After giving the stranger an appraising glance, Harry quickly thanked the Cartmaster for his warning before returning to English.

"Show this gentleman each of the vault subb-levels as well as any of the customary functions, afterward you may take lunch in the commisary if you are up-to-date in your studies; however, under no circumstances are you to miss the afternoon staff meeting." Holloweyes finished grudgingly with a just-this-side-of-hostile scowl (that served as goblins most polite expression) at the visitor.

"Yes, Sir. Cartmanager Holloweyes."

"This way, Sir." Harry intoned formally as he dipped into the shallow, barely polite – by goblin standard- bow customary to wizards, and directed the wizard to the nearest guest carts with a slight gesture that urged the man to move ahead of him.

When the wizard passed him with a dark, unfathomable glare, Harry felt a shiver run from the back of his neck down to his spine. The cartmaster was right; from his training with the Weapons Master, Four Claws, Harry had learned to recognize the stance and mannerisms of wizards and goblins alike, who were familiar with dueling.

The wizard stalking ahead of him had the stride and carriage of a wizard who was not only skillful in dueling but lethally so. His grim expression was almost more fitting to a goblin; neither projecting the cloying superficial courteous smiles that wizards generally wore nor wasting his teeth by bearing them needlessly in a condescending sneer, though the tightness of his lips, the glint in his eyes, and the arching of his thick brows all expressed an air of condescension. The thick black robes the wizard wore were well crafted to, almost appearing bespoke, without the garish trim and decking that many wizards seem to prefer. As Harry studied the wizard's robes, noticing the close fitting sleeves and numerous buttons that secured the loose edges of his garments, it suddenly occurred to him that they were well disguised dueling robes that could easily be overlooked as plain daily wear, garb which could almost be counted on to interfere with a wizard's ability to draw their wand swiftly and aim accurately.

"If you have finished gaping at my cloak, like a brainless oaf, we can be on our way. You may have nothing better to do today, but I assure you, the same is not true for me. A full yard of parchment could barely contain the list of activities that I would prefer to do before entrusting my physical well-being to your no doubt immeasurable cart driving skills." The wizard snarled impatiently.

"Yes, Sir." Harry rushed ahead to claim his preferred cart, ignoring the wizard's continuing dark glare on his back.

Despite Manager Hollow-eyes's warning, however, Harry found himself unable to repress the flippant response that came to mind almost immediately on the tails of the dark wizard's chastising remark, "As a representative of Gringotts, I would like to personally thank you for the trust you have shown in our bank and assure you that I have tested above requirements on all cart training and would not have been selected to escort any visitor were this not true. Additionally, however, I would like to inform you that, for a small fee, should anything untoward and life ending occur during our cart tour, your sacrifice could be memorialized on a brass plaque placed on a wall in our training hall to remind all future drivers of their duty to keep even potential customers safe. "

Standing behind the impertinent boy, Potion Master Severus Snape barely repressed a snort at the amusing comment so much like one the child's mother might have produced.

"How comforting." Snape responded.

"Service is our first product." Harry chirped back so politely that Snape had no doubt he was being mocked, if lightly.

Snape studied the boy silently as Potter bowed almost inappropriately deep and gestured for him to enter ahead of him. The child's comments, manner, and wit were all unexpeccted, but none as much as the boy's possession of Lily Evans Potter's brilliant emerald eyes.

Fifty-four minutes later, Severus finally acknowledged, if only to himself, that the boy's report of his skills had been accurate. True to his word, however, Potter had delivered both the fastest and smoothest tour of the vaults that Severus had ever experienced, drawing from the Potion Master a flicker of grudging respect... as had his astute aside in gobbledygook to the manager regarding the Headmaster's seemingly proprietary attitude towards Potter. The headmaster's attitude had been one of the primary reasons that he had been so startled the previous year to learn that the Gringotts bank had taken custody of Potter on the basis of unaddressed neglect.

As much as the headmaster might have wished to diminish the charges of neglect, Potter's delicate frame denied the Headmasters former assurances that the boy had been pampered an cossetted. For having been two years in the goblin's scrupulous care, which none could question for goblins were infamous for their close attendance to their investments, the boy was still quite scrawny and must have been practically emaciated when first introduced into their care. Further, while his spirit had not been completely crushed, as his earlier wry comment showed, he did seem far more humble than Severus would have expected... calling a goblin Sir and bowing so deeply. Severus had met other goblin wards in the past, and had never seen the like. No, for better or worse, Potter was not the same child he would have been had Lily raised him.

Still, it left him to wonder whether he retained any of his parents traits, but most particularly Lily's skills in transfiguration, charms, and Potions. Although he believed that he had enough information to provide a thorough report to the Headmaster, Severus nevertheless, posited a question of his own.

"The goblin you called Cartmanager called you thirteen o'three and then Wormroot; those are quite unusual names for wizards?" He asked with a subdued sneer, wondering if the boy had inherited enough of his father ego that the Goblins were having put the boy in his place, even with the background of neglect.

"Oh, the first... that's the lowest vault level I'm permitted to drive to."

"Interesting, thirteen, could you perhaps explain why you only took us to nine levels?" Snape jumped on the boy's explanation, expecting... almost hoping for some sign of laziness to have warranted his mistreatment by the Dursley's.

"The little Hampstead branch has only nine levels, Sir. I have simply passed the training levels to work in any of the branches having thirteen levels, including the London British Branch Headquarters. They have 65 levels, but you can only get the training to go beyond the fifteenth level from that branch."

"Hmmmph." Snape responded dryly, not certain how to cover any seeming dissapointment on his part. "and Wormroot?"

"Oh, that." Potter sighed with a blush. "That's... well... Like humans, Goblins hand out nicknames, if they think you've earned them."

"How. May. I. Ask. Did you earn the nickname Wormroot?" Severus asked with a smirk, finding it difficult to conceive of anyone who could possibly do something sufficiently dramatic with a completely inert ingredient like wormroot to earn a nickname."

"Hhhhhhfh." Potter responded with a dry, irritated grimace. "I opened my big mouth last year just before my birthday."

Clearly recognizing that Snape was not about to let the subject drop, Potter sighed again and rattled off a rather long and unnecessary tale that ended with him possessing over three crates of accumulated wormroot, given him by various goblins, heirs, and other associated Gringotts employees, solely because he had huffingly reported to one co-worker that if anyone were to get him something for his birthday (not a common tradition honored at Gringotts), then he wished it was wormroot so that he could finished the blasted potion that was holding him back from additional studies with the Potions Master on staff. Despite himself, Severus snorted, shook his head and waved the boy on his way to catch up with his studies... promising -for some odd reason- that he wouldn't divulge the story to anyone at Hogwarts.

He had no intention of it, in fact...at least, not until the boy's first potion's class.

Satisfied that he had enough to report (not including the nickname and associated tale), Severus smiled again at the boy's rapidly retreating back and turned to leave, nodding to the two gringotts guards that had been surreptitiously trailing them the entire time.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Gringott's Lesser Known Branch – 4

Rating: G – with the possibility of going up (it is just a plot bunny after all, and poor little plot bunnies tend to become rabid if I ignore them too long.)

Summary: Few in the Wizarding world have a true understanding of the inner structure of the Goblin Nation or its corporate representative to the wizarding community, Gringott's Bank, much less any clue about how far they will go to protect their investments.

-.-.-.-.-.-

ブレンーキンー

-.-.-.-.-.-

_"The fourth inescapable rule of existence is that an unasked question is profit lost."_

-.-.-.-.-.-

ブレンーキンー

_-.-.-.-.-.-_

_**GLKB, 4**_

Harry sighed as he removed his outer cloak and hung it in his wardrobe, smiling as Hibby handed him a damp hand-cloth.

As much as he truly enjoyed being a Gringott's cart driver, it was simply impossible to do his job without coming away coated in layers of tunnel grit, a substance, which somehow managed to defy all cleansing, impervious, and banishing charms and which could only truly be removed with a thorough - and costly- shower. Hibby knew, though, that he had taken a shower just two days earlier, and would make himself content with heated damp towels to conserve funds and thankfully had them ready for him when he came in.

Wiping his hands and face, Harry handed the towels back to the elf and turned to his accounting desk.

-.-.-.-.-.-

ブレンーキンー

-.-.-.-.-.-

After dropping into a deep-most polite bow, Harry knelt and waited to be acknowledged the stately-dressed goblin, who was sitting at his desk reviewing his ledgers and making copious notes in a leather binder. After a moment, the goblin gave a curt nod, but continued scanning his ledgers.

"My apologies, Sir! I was not aware of your presence."

"You were not to be informed of my presence, Mr. Potter until the audit was complete."

Although he had been answered succinctly, Harry remained kneeling, patiently waiting for the goblin to give him permission to speak again.

"You have a question?"

"Sir, May I offer my humble hospitality in gratitude for your presence in my home?"

A flick of the goblin's feathered quill sent Harry and Hibby hurrying to the kitchen and out into the paddock where Harry kept the two goats he had purchased when he was eight.

-.-.-.-.-.-

ブレンーキンー

-.-.-.-.-.-

As Hibby went to Mildred, the nanny, Harry went to Edgar, the smaller of the two, and greeted the goat with a friendly, "hey fellow."

He had purchased Edgar from Jessup, after the other cart driver made a foolish and thoughtless attempt to impress the tunnel manager, Holloweyes. Hoping to get an edge in the application process, Jessup had ordered his elves to take Edgar's scrotum and use the meat for hors d'ouerves that he wanted served with the custom offering of blood soup.

While goblins considered scrota delicacies - courteous to serve to seniors and superiors whom one wished to impress- the delicacies were customarily taken only from elderly goats that had proven their value by sireing no less than seven offspring in hale and vigorous health.

As a result, had Jessup attempted to properly purchase the delicacy, he would have found a single small serving priced well beyond his ability to purchase it. Instead, Harry's friend had rashly ordered his elves to take Edgar's without even the supervision of a beast healer, which he also could not have afforded - forgetting that while they were assigned to his care, Tabby and Nort were actually in Gringott's employ.

Because of the good relationship that he had with Hibby and the other elves, Harry was one of the first to hear that Jessup had been ordered to sell the little goat, that he had kept just barely fed, to the first bidder. Harry, feeling sympathetic for the scrawny little creature that he'd had to carry home - it had been so weak, had quickly offered a bid that was well beyond reasonable given the little goat's state, then immediately after, took Edgar to the healer and bought the recommended potion recipes and ingredients. In the year since, Edgar had thrived - under Harry's care and sired a kid with both Mildred, who was due in less than two weeks and Bunka, a nanny belonging to another cart drive who paid Harry a seventy two sickle stud fee and promised Harry half the profit when its kid is sold to the animal broker.

"Good Fellow," Harry murmured, casting a gentle cleaning spell over the nick he'd made under the billie's right ear before casting a second light numbing spell and the healing charm.

Edgar bleated happily, barely noticing the blood collection, as he playfully butted Harry in the chest-clearly hoping that Harry was ready to play now that he was home from his duties.

"Sorry fellow, I can't just yet." Harry laughed and summoned a fresh bundle of spring greens that he split between Edgar and Mildered before handing off the container of blood to Hibby.

-.-.-.-.-.-

ブレンーキンー

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Your domesticates appear content, healthy, well-groomed, and productive," the auditor commented from the doorway, gesturing Hibby on to the kitchen as he cast an appraising eye over Mildred. When his eyes returned to Harry, Harry had dropped into a polite, attentive kneel. The auditor nodded at the gesture, without comment then moved from the doorway to the paddock where he gave the goats a cursory inspection, pausing only to note the slight swell of scar tissue at the burl of their ears - where the veins were closest to the surface.

"Your ledgers are in good order, your accounts appear adequately maintained, and your invesments show a positive rate of return. You are either current or in advance of your required studies, and your managers report strongly on your performance of your duties. Tell me, Mr. Potter, what are your ambitions?"

Harry paused, considering the question carefully. He had hoped that he could earn a summer internship at the London branch while going to Hogwarts, but Harry suspected that the auditor's question reffered to Harry's long term plans, and he wasn't certain how to explain why he hadn't made plans for his future beyond Hogwarts- having no true idea what the wizarding world would be like outside of Gringotts.

And then there was Gringotts. In the two years that he'd been in Gringotts care, Harry's life had improved so far beyond even the fantastical dreams of what life could be when he had lived at Privet Drive. He was never hungry. He had an entire suite of his own - with a bedroom, a dining room, the tiny kitchen he shared with Hibby and Ebby, and a study- not just a dark little broom cupboard under the stairs that dropped dust and cobwebs on him whenever his cousin decided to jump on the steps above his bed. He had friends, teachers who didn't ignore him, and managers who took him aside to offer their advice even though he wasn't having problems.

When Jessup had caused the cart accident, Tunnel Manager Holloweyes had visited him every day to check on him; and Manager Griphook had dined with him at least once a month and after every visit from one of the Headmaster's people.

Harry didn't know for certain what he wanted for himself in the future, but he was absolutely certain of one thing: "I wish to return a thousand galleons for every knut Gringotts has invested in me."

The auditor clicked his teeth with amusement, as he continued to rub Edgar's ear to the billie's delight.

"Very well, then, I shall see that you do," the auditor remarked cryptically, before dropping Edgar's ear and ordering, "Come."

-.-.-.-.-.-

ブレンーキンー

-.-.-.-.-.-

By the time they reached the dining room, Harry had given up on trying to figure out what the auditor had meant. The younger goblins that he had trained with had spoken of auditors in hushed tones and nervous rumors of anonymous bank agents who struck without warning, reviewed all ledgers and investments down to the knut, then ordered you to sell off any investments that did not meet their unspoken requirements. From what he'd heard, auditors had very little to do with the actual management of loans, acting instead as an over-sight to ensure that no individual ran up an undue amount negative returns. While the auditor's review seemed favorable toward him, Harry was not convinced that the goblin's opinion could not change at a moment's notice and kept the thirty inescapable rules of existence running in the background of his thoughts as constant mantra, in hopes that the running monologue would help him from speaking or acting rashly.

After the auditor glanced over the table with a blank almost expressionless glance and took a seat, Harry waited until he received permission to join the bank official and thanked Hibby when the elf set a bowl of blood soup, a walnut and lilywort salad, and a side of feta cheese in front of him. He'd almost worried that Ebby might overload his plate in a bid to get him to eat more, when the auditor's presence would prevent him from discarding food, but thankfully the little elf had restrained herself. After the auditor finally started, Harry crumbled the feta into his soup, and carefully sipped from the bowl as was customary to goblins.

After a moment, he felt the auditor's keen gaze on him, but politely ignored it, knowing that most of the heirs in Gringott's care avoided blood soup. While he doubted that it would ever be his favorite dish, Harry had asked Hibby and Ebby to serve it as often as they could, without affecting Mildred and Edgar's health, so that he could become accustomed to the bitter dish that was considered one of the most polite starters to serve goblin guests. Blotting his lips before turning to the salad, Harry looked up with startled surprise when the auditor clicked his teeth furiously, in a display of what goblins would consider hilarity.

"Centuries of experience should have taught me ago not to place wagers with Ragnrok," the auditor finally explained when he stopped clicking his teeth.

While Harry was intrigued by the unexpectedly personal statement, he was still uncertain whether it would be impolite to inquire deeper so he sufficed himself to clenching his fist in polite agreement before continuing to eat. Whatever the nature of their wager had been, Harry began to suspect that he was the root of it, when his gesture set the auditor off in another spree of furious teeth clicking.

"Recite for me, Mr. Potter, the twenty-third inescapable rule and it's compliments." The auditor hissed in gobbledygook.

"Yes, Auditor." Harry responded in kind, "Sir, the Twenty-Third Inescapable Rule of Existence states that before laying foundations – dig deeply. It has three compliments: the twenty first – wards and walls are for not if the ground can not support their weight; the twenty-second – a foundation of stone will crack if built upon water; and the seventh – there is no greater folly than action without knowledge."

"If I had not seen your lineage charts with my own eyes, I would have you tested for goblin blood, Mr. Potter." The auditor uttered with transparent amusement.

"Thank you, Auditor." Harry ducked his head with pleasure. To him, it was one of the most unlikely, but sought-after compliments a goblin could offer.

Goblins, by nature, culture, and experience were necessarily exclusionary individuals, seeing themselves set off from all of the other magical races by both their history of successful rebellion against the human wizarding world and their exclusion of the other non-human races, who had refused to support them in the bid against human domination. Goblins were literally a nation and a people unto themselves, who had only seen fit to monitor and intervene in the affairs of wizards when it became obvious that the wizards were neglecting investments (in the nature of untended offspring) in a manner that would have been deleterious to both peoples, and then only by the treaties and the financial powers they held under those treaties had they been able to take possession of children like Harry, whose legal guardians were negligent in their duties. While Goblins were generous and attentive in their supervision of these dispossessed children, they, nevertheless, seemed view most heirs as outsiders: individuals to be trained and tolerated but rarely socialized with or accepted in their numbers.

After flicking his fingers permissively, the auditor commented, "your gobbledygook is nearly flawless with little accent barring the lack of vibrato in consonants, but I suspect that human throats are not constructed to handle such nuances. Your recital is accurate and prompt. You were instructed by Griphook?"

"Yes, Auditor."

Returning his bowl to his plate, the auditor wiped his lips on his napkin and smacked his lips to indicate his pleasure with the dish, then tossed the remaining cubes of feta into his mouth and chewed them thoughtfully. By custom, they had reached the point when Harry could present any questions he might have, and he promptly slipped out of his seat, to one knee to do so.

-.-.-.-.-.-

ブレンーキンー

-.-.-.-.-.-

"You have questions?" the auditor inquired curiously.

"I wish to employ the fourth rule." Harry agreed.

"An unasked question is profit lost." The auditor confirmed, before flicking his fingers in permission.

"Given that you have seen fit to allow me knowledge of your presence, I presume that my audit is complete. May I inquire into the results?"

"Ask."

" Aside from the comments that you have made thus far, what is your determination on my status?"

The auditor's lips curled slightly, clearly pleased by the neutral tone Harry had used so far.

"The return on investments that Gringotts has made on your behalf, to date, have exceeded expectations. While I have yet to make my report, it will state that, based on the current rate of return, the principal invested should be increased – significantly with a corresponding increase in the rate of review."

Harry clenched both fists to express his gratitude, but remained kneeling.

"Will your recommendation be accepted?" Harry asked hesitantly when the auditor did not signal an end to the questions. It was a presumptuous question, almost to the point of being rude, but his instincts were yelling at him to ask it, and Harry was slowly learning to trust his instincts.

"Your investment has been closely monitored; you are correct in suspecting that this is a mere, if necessary formality. On receipt of my report, you will be transferred to the London branch where you will begin a new training regime designed to augment your current productivity."

The auditor's declaration startled Harry. He hadn't considered the possibility of being relocated, or heard of any other trainees (heirs or goblin alike) who had been transferred. The prospect sounded both exciting and a little daunting, but at first blush, Harry suspected that it would be a really great opportunity... until something occurred to him.

"Sir. Hibby and Ebby..."

"Your current assignment of personal assistants have been proven successful, I see no reason to elect new assistants. Similarly, Special Accounts Manager Griphook will be assigned a lateral transfer to the London branch."

"Thank you, Sir." Harry dipped into a lower bow before returning to his seat.

Barely three seconds had lapsed before Hibby and Ebby began to serve the second course, and Harry was grateful for their quick distraction. His mind was awhirl with thoughts of London, and he was almost certain he would have reversed the auditor's opinion of him if he'd been required to hold a conversation at that moment.

-.-.-.-.-.-

ブレンーキンー

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Your hospitality and company do you honor, Mr. Potter." The auditor pronounced after they finished the final course and he slid out of his seat. "I look forward to seeing you in London."

"Thank you, for accepting my hospitality, Auditor. I look forward to such future opportunities." Harry responded carefully, assuming that the auditor was referring seeing Harry due to the increased rate of review he was going to recommend.

The auditor paused at the door to comment, "Given the frequency of our interactions, Mr. Potter, it would be advisable to give you a name that you may refer to me by, other than auditor. I am Coronae Magister Magia of the Clan Ragnrok, Brother to Ragnrok of Ragnrok, President of Gringotts. Profit be ours," then swept out the door.

In his wake, Harry shifted nervously when Hibby and Ebby stared at him with wide – startled expressions.

"What is it?" He questioned them urgently, afraid that they were going to tell him that he had done something to offend the auditor, given the goblin's swift departure. Neither Manager Griphook, nor Tunnel Manager Hollow-eyes had ever left immediately after the meal, before the customary provision of drink and fire. He must have been too careful or shallow in his response, given insult. Hibby and Ebby were positively pale.

"Master Harry is not be knowing of the Crown-Maker?" Ebby asked glancing uncertainly at Hibby, who pushed her forward, trusting her to explain it better to Harry... or simply not trusting his own voice to hold out.

"Crown-Maker? No... He makes the crowns for the Kings and Queens?" Harry asked in confusion, that seemed like an odd corollary for an auditor.

"No, Master Harry, you's not be understanding perfectly," Ebby squeaked, falling into Hibby's habit of elfish grammar from her excitement. "Coronae Magister Magia... he is Crown – Maker... He is making the Crown of Magic.... Master Harry - He bes making The King! Yous is ... maybe ... being the King."


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Gringott's Lesser Known Branch

Rating: G – with the possibility of going up (it is just a plot bunny after all)

Summary: Few in the Wizarding world have a true understanding of the inner structure of the Goblin Nation or its corporate representative to the wizarding community, Gringott's Bank, much less any clue about how far they will go to protect their investments. 

ブレンキン

"The sixth _inescapable rule of existence_ – a weakness is a profit in disguise."

ブレンキン

**Gringott's Lesser Known Bank, 5**

Nodding a firm dismissal to 'courier three-forty seven', Harry smiled warmly at the child's back as the girl scampered over to her station, money belt jingling. Truth be told, of his recent charges, the starry-eyed blond was probably his favorite, and he suspected she was the goblins' favorite as well, as her supervisor forced an abnormally encouraging smile to his lips for her benefit.

As much as he had expected and looked forward to joining the London Branch and taking the lower-levels cart operator training, Harry could not deny that his new position on the "Assets Retrieval and Retention Team" was far more satisfying.

It was a task he didn't think that even Coronae Magister Magia had anticipated the possibility of, but instead - one that, by fortune's favor, had fallen into his lap, when his path crossed the Retrieval Team's path the day they veritably dragged the Zabini heir, kicking and screaming, into the London Branch, the very same day that Harry had reported for cart operator training.

Unlike the Asset team's retrieval of Harry, Gringott's asset retrieval team had not claimed Zabini because his guardian had been neglectful, negligent, or abusive. Unlike Harry, Blaise had never been ignored, starved, abused, reviled, or other wise mistreated in any form. He had been pampered and coddled and fed his mother's prejudices and beliefs as if pap from a nursery's elf's spoon.

Instead, the team had asserted the Bank's rights over Zabini in the certainty that, without intervention, he was destined to follow in his father's fate, mysteriously passing within days of Madam Zabini inexplicably increasing the rate of their death benefits, with herself named as the sole beneficiary.

Being taken away from a mother, whom he had, once, believed loved and cared for him, by individuals that he had been taught to see as abnormal, base, vicious, untrustworthy 'creatures' had been a terrifying experience for Blaise. Subsequently, he had been fighting viciously with every ounce of strength, physical and magical, that he possessed to escape the goblins as they virtually dragged him into the London Branch.

It had only been happenstance, that Blaise had caught sight of Harry as he crossed the hallway, and mere happenstance, that Blaise - even in his frantic state- had recognised Harry as the Boy Who Lived and had immediately frozen in surprise.

Most of the surviving Death Eaters had been Slytherin, and cunning enough to know that their values could be served as well by child of the light, as by a dark lord - who lost to said child, if the proper political associations were secured. In that light, they raised their children with a certain reverence for Harry, who presumably possessed the magical power and ability, as an infant, to defeat the former dark lord.

If it turned out, later, that the Boy Who Lived was too entrenched in the light, well, their children could be suitably indoctrinated into a more productive path of their parents' choosing.

So, at that young age, barely ten, Blaise still revered Harry Potter.

When Harry Potter told him that the goblins meant Blaise no ill will - and that they had taken him in and raised him better than his own guardians had - Blaise had trusted and believed him.

As a result, in time, Blaise had accepted the goblins as his new guardians on the basis of that trust. Oh, there was no denying that there had been a few miss-starts as the child came to accept that his mother may have had other motivations, but before too much time had passed, Blaise had been convinced to accept the guidance and philosophies of his new guardians.

For his assistance in retaining the Zabini child as a ward of Gringotts, Harry had received seventy-two galleons and had been called in four other times to relieve the fears of mistrustful and frightened heirs as they became wards of Gringotts... before Coronae Magister Magia and Manager Griphook finally decided to redirect Harry's duties away from their original plan.

As a deep level cart operator, Harry would have frequently come into contact with the bank's more prosperous clients (or their representatives) building the bridges for future contact in political and financial realms - while he was still a child - and gaining a measure of their character, while they still believed he was naive and irrelevant to their current concerns.

The position had proven profitable in the past, as many of the wizards Harry escorted had shown a tendency to simply ignore his presence, trusting - in a manner that they wouldn't have had a goblin been present - that Harry's youth and position translated into his ignorance of their conversation.

While Harry had always maintained the bank's standards of client confidentiality, as a cart operator he had also gained several significant investment advantages, which had, in turn, garnered approval from Manager Griphook, Coronae Magister Magia, and higher notables(although those names had never been clarified). Subsequently, the decision to change his planned course had been somewhat difficult, but in the end, it was decided that greater strategic advantage lay in placing Harry in a position that would allow him to mould the relationship between the Goblins and other significant heirs.

In addition to being satisfying job, giving Harry the opportunity to encourage, support, tutor other of the Goblins wards, the profitability of his new position continued to win approval from Manager Griphook and gave Harry the additional time needed to improve his studies.

Having dropped off the last of his charges to their assigned station, Harry returned to the records podium that had been added to retrieval team's offices for him, so that he could regularly review his accounts and his charges performance reports - without having to return to his apartments, in the among the lowest levels of the Gringott's dormitories.

While the ward's and children's quarters were luxurious, by comparison to what he had enjoyed in Little Hampstead, Goblins traditionally ensured their children's safety by placing them in the lowest levels of their tunnels at the furthest reaches from any invading force, which in London - having eight times the clients and staff as the Little Hampstead Branch - meant inconveniently long rides between his quarters and his assigned offices. Still, there were some small indulgences from home that Harry had become comfortable enough with his position to allow himself. 

ブレンキン

"Hibby." Harry summoned his house elf in a quiet voice when he saw that he was the first of his teammates to have returned to the offices after delivering their charges.

"Harry has called Hibby?" Hibby popped in, his voice eager and excited.

"Yes, thank you, Hibby. Could you please arrange a ward's dinner this evening at 6:30?"

Hibby's expression positively beamed at the prospect as he nodded frantically, his enthusiasm so noticeable that it caused Harry to wince, guiltily.

While the move to London had been a profitable one for Harry and Hibby's mate Ebby, now assigned full time to Manager Griphook's staff, Hibby had found his duties and activities more than cut in half.

With the change of positions, Harry rarely visited his rooms during lunch; he never returned, as he once had - with his clothes covered in soot and tunnel grit; and the goats Hibby and Ebby had looked after had been sold to two of Harry's charges after they were relocated to smaller branches, where there was space and resources available for the care of livestock.

As a result, Harry often found the little elf's constant attention frustratingly inescapable when he did return to his quarters. 

ブレンキン

Harry was just settling down to revise his charges reports for the day, having completed all of his own assignments, when courier three-forty seven ran through up to the open door and began knocking on the wall, frantically, forgetting to bow in her distress.

"Courier?" He acknowledged her, jumping to his feet and rushing over.

"Manager, Manager, Manager, Manager..." She gasped out in a rush. "Hurry, you have to hurry. Cart Assistant Four o' Nineteen has gotten in trouble again, and he's gotten hurt this time, too."

"How badly?"

"He's in the healer's wing, but Healer DimsFlush said that he won't even have enough for the minimal treatment, and he's refusing to let them pull directly from his personal account. He said he'd rather die that be broke."

Rolling his eyes, Harry caught her hand and followed her out as she dragged him after her.

Cart Assistant Four o' Nineteen had been Harry's most troublesome charge so far. Retrieved from the Malfoy estate, the cart assistant had stubbornly refused to acknowledge that his circumstances under the goblin's care were far improved over his previous treatment.

Like many of the other children of former Death Eaters, the cart assistant, Draco, had suffered horribly when one or both parents addiction to the Dark Arts had been turned inward by the Ministry's constant supervision. Draco had never acknowledged the injuries he had received or identified the source, despite both Harry's and the Healer's numerous attempts to get him to come to terms with the abuse.

More frustrating, though, were Draco's high temper and his tendency to take it out on others - especially their hosts, whom he irrationally blamed for the nightmares and mood swings that had begun to affect him more frequently the longer he was in their care. While the cart assistant had been both quick to learn his duties and both canny and careful minding his books, he frequently lost most if not all of the profits he'd gained in a week due to penalties for getting into arguments or outright insubordination to his supervisors.

Although he had been brought in two years, earlier, he had been so problematic that he would have been turned over to the ministry of magic for obliviation and return to his guardians, if the Malfoys had not been so heavily invested in Ministry's affairs, and the Malfoy's influence far stronger than it should have been despite the clear evidence of abusing their own heir. So long as their child refused to name his abuser, there was nothing the bank could do to stem the Malfoy's influence outside of working toward a more moderated stance in the future Lord Malfoy.

Draco had only been assigned to Harry in a last ditch effort to turn the boy's attitude around, after he had thrown a knife at his previous manager.

Admittedly, Defense Master Thornbrow had not been injured, but neither had there been any reason for him to expect the attack - in the dining hall, when he had only commented to another of their instructors on Draco's recent improvement.

He had improved, marginally, with Harry's attention: his fights had, at least reduced in frequency from daily to weekly, but it was still ridiculously frustration how easily he was set off by innocuous and often unpredictable topics. 

ブレンキン

After dropping off the courier back to her station, Harry hurried down to the healer's wing and quickly located Healer Dimsflush, who was clicking his teeth sharply as he stared at a figure writhing on the the stone healing bench. Dropping into a polite bow, Harry knelt and waited to be acknowledged. Thankfully, the healer had been expecting him and turned quickly gesturing him to follow.

Before Harry could kneel, again, to await the Healer's announcement, the Healer flashed his fingers in a quick order to remain standing.

"He is unconscious." The healer growled. "He has refused to pay for treatment, even though the remaining debt would be recoverable. If he is not treated, Gringott's investments will quickly go to waste."

Harry caught a startled breath at the Healer's pronouncement of Draco's impending death, and he couldn't help glancing away from the Healer to Draco, even though it amounted to rank disrespect. He quickly returned his eyes; however, the healer had either not noticed (unlikely) or had chosen to ignore the slight, and nodded his head giving Harry permission to speak.

"How much would the cost of his treatment be?" Harry ventured. He had other questions, of course, but none that were worthy of wasting the healer's time.

"Seven thousand galleons."

The expense forced a chuff of air from Harry. It was steep, but the Healer was right; Harry had seen Draco's books. While Draco could not personally spend the personal accounts that were set aside for wards to learn to invest wisely, it was permitted to direct those funds toward medical treatment. Draco would have enough, but it would take months or perhaps even years for him to return his accounts to his previous levels.

"Healer, I will cover his treatment if I may have a moment, please."

Healer Dimsflush nodded sharply and called his assistant accepting Harry's agreement even before Harry could give him the account number.

"Hibby." Harry summoned the elf, requested three of his family's discretionary account books, and signed them over to the healer.

"He will not thank you for this." The healer commented, in an oddly personal note, after the payment was finished.

"No," Harry agreed, in gobbledygook. "But he will owe me, and perhaps that will be enough for me to work with."

To Harry's utter surprise, Healer Dimsflush bowed to him, in response. It wasn't deep, but the mere fact that he had at all was an unprecedented honor. 


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Gringott's Lesser Known Branch  
Rating: G – with the possibility of going up (it is just a plot bunny after all)  
Summary: Few in the Wizarding world have a true understanding of the inner structure of the Goblin Nation or its corporate representative to the wizarding community, Gringott's Bank, much less any clue about how far they will go to protect their investments.

ブレンキン

_"The eighth Inescapable principle of existence – a competitor's spy is your best servant."_

ブレンキン

**Gringott's Lesser Known Bank, 6**

Stepping to the front of his charges, Harry glanced over Blaise, Draco, Taylor, Neville, and Millicent to verify that they were appropriately prepared for their venture. Blaise and Draco were standing the closest together, having become familiar with each other as Harry's charges, while Neville and Millicent - having been sent from outer branches to attend the shopping expedition - stood slightly off to the side speaking to courier three-forty seven.

"Courier," Harry called her over from her gushing explanation of how Harry had arranged for her assignment to department three-forty, which handled the inspection and purchasing of non-consumable animals for Gringotts (like the ebon-toed nifflers that were used in the lower and more ancient vaults to prevent the loss of galleons through vault wear and degradation) so that she could get to see, play with, and tame the new purchases before they were delivered to various departments.

"Yes, Manager," Three-forty: Seven, sing-songed as she danced around him, much to Draco and Blaise's amusement.

"Is there truly nothing that you would like me to pick up for you while we are picking up our supplies?" Harry asked suppressing, for her sake, the slight grimace he felt at being put on show.

"Nooooo. I could order any sweets I want, even if Hibby weren't making me honey and jumblebee jam sandwiches for lunch. Really, I could. I haven't made a single mistake on my accounts in ninety two days."

"I know," Harry agreed smiling at the reminder of her accomplishments, despite her accompanying reminder that they all could have simply placed orders for their school supplies - were it not for the Ministry's and Dumbledore's continued 'concerned' interest in the "status and well-being" of the 'Gringott Heirs'.

ブレンキン

Harry had been quick to point out to the Coronae Magister, when briefed about the Ministry's resurging interest, that - if the Minister (aka Dumbledore and Lord Malfoy's seemingly unwitting puppet) had given a deuce about the 'heirs' surely they would have sought to arrange a visitation with more than just Harry and Draco - in a more "neutral location". The Coronae Magister had agreed, of course, all to familiar with Dumbledore's meddling and inappropriate interest in Harry; but from the start, Harry had realised that his managers would have to agree to the _ministry's _request in some form or other - or risk impacting Gringott's investments.

Ultimately, after Gringotts proposed several artlessly manipulative resolutions, an agreement was finally negotiated for Harry, Draco, and 'other representative heirs' - who would be attending Hogwarts in the coming year to visit Diagon Alley for the annual 'Hogwarts Shopping Day' under the supervision of a non-ministry worker, who was finally selected as satisfactory to all interested parties and who was to meet them momentarily.

ブレンキン

"Everyone has their voucher books then?" Harry asked gently, remembering that both Millicent and Neville had left their account books back at their home branches, not realizing that they would be needed for the trips.

Neville shuffled through his pocket for several seconds, seeming quite unused to the loose black wizarding robes that he had been given for the excursion, but with a sigh of relief pulled the thin voucher pad out of his pocket. Millicent's searching hand wasn't so lucky, and she grimaced retreating in her tracks to retrieve her vouchers from the meeting room they had just lunched in.

"If we're ready, then, we might as well move up to the front lobby and wait for our escort there." Harry suggested.

"That won't be necessary, Wormroot." A familiar voice answered, cutting across Harry's suggestion with a tone of amusement.

"Sir," Harry turned quickly in surprise. "Will you be accompanying us, today?"

"Obviously, Woo-r-mm-root." The potion master replied, drawing his name out again with relish. "Or is there another title that you prefer to go by? I understand that you're no longer a cart assistant?"

Harry grimaced, shaking his head ruefully. The man had promised not to share his nickname with anyone at Hogwarts, but they weren't at Hogwarts, were they? And he had said nothing about whether he would mention it to anyone not currently at Hogwarts. "No, Sir, my current designation is Retention Specialist London Seven, but Wormroot is fine, or Mr. Potter, if you prefer."

"Very well, Mr. Potter," the potionmaster grumbled, seeming disappointed by Harry's equanimity, and Harry almost felt bad for not putting on a little huff and spoiling the man's humor, until the man continued, "You may have nothing better to do today, but I assure you, the same is not true for me. A full yard of parchment could barely contain the list of activities that I would prefer to do before escorting a cluster of ill-mannered, dunderheads..."

"Sir," Harry interrupted, bristling but trying his best to maintain a polite tone, "I would thank you not to disparage our manners or behavior before you have spent even thirty seconds time with us; while you may not be aware of the fact, our guardians have invested time and expense into assuring that ALL heirs display appropriate comportment."

ブレンキン

Taken aback slightly by the familiar flash of temper in her child's eyes, Severus studied Lily's son for several seconds, noting the changes that two years had made.

Wormroot, for in truth he preferred the nickname to any reminder of the child's sire, while no longer scrawny was still willowy slim, and most likely would never attain his sire's brainless but brawny build. Unlike the detested parent, he appeared well-groomed if modestly dressed. Most notable of all, however, was the boy's maturity and maintained politeness - despite his apparent ire, traits so similar to his mother's that her stamp on the child out-shown the superficial imprint of the unfortunate half of his parentage - and Severus unconsciously moderated his stance toward the child.

He would still give lip service to the Potter name for appearance sake, but the child might as well have been named Evans for all that it mattered to him.

"I will take that into consideration." He offered, not quite willing to apologize, though it was probably warranted, "but reserve the prerogative to decide for myself … in thirty seconds."

"Of course." The child agreed - a flash of humor visibly cooling the temper still simmering in his gaze, before he asked with returned equanimity, "Shall we lead or follow?"

Severus gestured ahead of him, smirking when he heard Draco and another child, the Zabini heir by complexion, ask under their breaths: "_Wormroot_?"

"It's a long story," Potter huffed.

ブレンキン

Surprisingly, the purchase of supplies was accomplished in a bare modicum of time, as organized by Potter, who allocated a portion of their supply list to each child, including himself, with firm instructions to request each clerk cast shrinking and lightening charms on their purchases so no one would be unduly burdened, before sending the Longbottom and Bullstrode heirs in search of their text books, while he and Draco remained with the Potion Master.

Sensing a shift in the boys' attitudes, Severus gazed at them impassively, curious to see who would speak first and what would be said.

For several moments, they simply stared back at him, then glanced at each other and seemed communicate with glances... not legillimency... he was certain, but more the sort of communication that arises from familiarity. A firm nod from Potter, signalled an agreement of some sort, followed by his raised clearly questioning eyebrows, then a less certain nod from Draco. Potter studied Draco briefly, before nodding to them both.

"I'll just get started on our potion supplies, shall I?" He offered then turned and hurried toward the apothecaries.

Severus stared expectantly at Draco, noting his idle shifting moving toward actual agitation.

"You have something to say, Draco?"

"Why are you here? Draco blurted out without a moment's hesitation, very much in the manner Severus remembered for early childhood. Even back then, Severus had dreaded Lucius's mistreatment of his godson, or he might have teased his schoolmate about Draco's gryffindorish tendencies.

"Are you asking for yourself, or Mr. Potter?" Severus evaded the question for a moment, curious to get a better idea of Draco's mindset with regard to Potter.

"Both really; You're not answering the question." Draco attempted his own clumsy evasion, but Severus was not going to be deflected. After observing their notable, if unexpected familiarity, he was curious to get a better idea of Draco's mindset with regard to Potter.

Draco straightened, clearly attempting to project an air of haughty disdain; a façade, which Severus cut through with a raised eyebrow and an expectant expression that Draco wilted under, after several seconds passed.

"Both really; I told Harry that you're my godfather, but he thinks you're here because you're under orders from both the Headmaster or … my father." Draco's carefully couched accusation and voice weakened as he referred to his father, but Severus pretended not to notice.

"And Mr. Potter's opinion of my motivation is relevant?"

"You're still not answering the question." Draco retorted in rather Gryffindorish deflection that Severus was inclined to ignore.

"That seems to be a trait that we share. You must realize, however, that there may be multiple reasons that I am here. Without a frame of reference, I can hardly offer you an adequate response? If you will answer my question, I may be inclined to offer you a meaningful response."

Draco cocked his head, and quite rightfully studied Severus suspiciously, but Severus was confident in his gimlet gaze, and knew that the child would be able to read nothing of significance.

His godson maintained his silence and suspicion for almost forty-eight seconds, a impressive display of self-control compared to Draco's behavior that Severus had last witnessed at the Annual Malfoy Solstice Ball, five years earlier. His godson shifted back and forth for several seconds, glanced between him and the apothecary's window several times, then visibly struggled to answer subtly: "Harry's already told you that he's a Retention Manager. Blaise, I, Taylor, and Allison Chamberlain are...

"Interesting," Severus interrupted in an impatient drawl, before continuing, "I am surprised though that you would be so willing to do Mr. Potter's bidding. Especially when in relation to family... of a sort."

"I'm no- It's not … I owe... there are... oblig-... " Draco trailed off uncomfortably.

"Were you about to say that are obligations between the two of you?"

The answer was obvious, but the clarification and observing Draco's attitude regarding the matter were critical to Severus. There were more obligations surrounding the children than either child could possibly realize, but Severus had no intention of allowing either his godson or Lily's child to be sacrificed in the name of his duties. To that end, Severus would settle for nothing less than full confession, even if it meant dragging the full details out of his unfortunate godson.

His irritation must have shown in his tone or expression because Draco took a step away before nodding.

"Yes," Draco answered, flinching slightly, almost cringing in his skin.

"In which direction?"

Draco paled, backing further away as his reaction provoked a soft growl from Severus. He could never remember Draco acting so skittish, but then Lucius had always been gifted with memory suppression spells, in the short term … and Severus was unpleasantly reminded of the elder Potter and his tendency to prey on schoolmate's weaknesses.

"Draco's debt is a private matter that has nothing to do with today's outing." Potter unexpectedly answered, from behind him, catching them both off guard.

"I happen to disagree." Severus retorted, "Untoward debts to untrustworthy lenders is well within the purpose of this outing, Mr. Potter… as is elicit eavesdropping. If this is how you intend to persuade the ministry of your guardian's good faith, you are falling rather short of the mark."

Severus suppressed a smile at the bristling anger that Potter wore like an extra cloak as he stepped around, moving between him and Draco. Instead of speaking to him, however, Potter kept his back to Severus and addressed Draco with a strange remark.

"A galleon a question, two galleons permission, three galleons discretion."

Draco studied Potter with quiet but clear anxiety then nodded and grabbed the list from Potter before he practically ran to the apothecary shop.

"You have him quite intimidated, it seems." Severus accused angrily, only barely managing to keep his voice from carrying.

"And it seems that you are quick to jump to conclusions before investing the time to gain sufficient information... or is that what you were sent to do, build a case of false information and defamation for your masters to slander our guardians' reputations?" Potter's tone was surprisingly cutting for one so young, and despite himself, Severus was impressed.

"Why look for false information, when what I have heard is damaging enough?" He retorted in a cloying drawl.

"What information do you have?" Potter asked with a light scowl, "That Draco owes me a debt? When debts are a customary means of establishing leverage between families where ties by marriage are not possible? That I didn't trust you alone with one of my charges? They are my responsibility, and you're Dumbledore's or Malfoy's or the Minister's 'man', or perhaps all three?"

Potter's retort was so surprising to him that, for a moment, Severus was certain that it had been crafted for the boy by one of the goblins, until Potter opened his mouth again.

"How dense do you think we are? Just because we're kids, you don't think that we know what's going on? … That we don't hear and understand what adults are saying just because they prefer to ignore our presence? That's the one thing I miss about being a cart operator - the money I could make off of adults' idle conversations..."

"So you've decided to prey off of your 'charges' to make up the difference?" Severus taunted, smiling openly when he struck a nerve and the boy's fists clenched in response.

"I paid off the medical treatment, he was too proud and too shamed to pay for; if I hadn't … he wouldn't be here. Would that have been in his best interest?" Potter snapped back, "Is everyone in the wizarding world so prejudiced that they'd believe he was better off dead than in Gringott's care? If so, then why didn't they just leave him with his '_F__ather" _in the first place? He would have seen to it quick enough!"

Potter's voice was so thick with derision and righteous anger that Severus was rather impressed he could keep his voice so low. As it was, Potter was clearly struggling with his temper, clenching and unclenching his fists, breathing heavily in sharp 'chuffs', but under Severus's gaze he slowly regained his composure and looked away. The child's passionate defense of his actions, if true, spoke well on the child's behalf -likening him more than ever to his late mother, but Severus wasn't quite willing to take his words at face value... yet.

"And you have no intentions of collecting?" Your motivations were purely beneficent?" He asked skeptically.

Potter shifted slightly under his gaze, and Severus smiled thinly. "Your behavior does not match your noble words, Mr. Potter. Are you, perhaps, being less than sincere?"

"No," Potter denied, but shifted uncomfortably again.

"No?" Severus drawled, enjoying Potter's discomfort, as he let his disbelief carry in his voice.

ブレンキン

"No." Harry denied again, almost cursing under his breath. He hadn't meant to give so much away, but especially after he'd essentially promised Draco that he'd be discrete in his answers.

Even worse was that he'd also essentially trapped himself into answering. If he didn't, it would cast aspersions on Gringott's care and ethical standards, but if he did, it would be giving away information that he wasn't certain he wanted the Potion's Master to have. Especially since it wasn't about just him; wavering in his response for several seconds, Harry finally met the man's gaze, hoping that Draco was right about the man.

"No. I wouldn't care if he ever paid me back for it, except..."

"Except?" The older man pressed when Harry paused to get his wording exactly right.

"_EXCEPT," _he returned irritably, "I've needed the debt, to manage Draco. I don't want him sent back to his father, but he's been close to it a handful of times. His father doesn't respect Gringott's representatives any more than the rest of the wizarding world seems to, and he passed that disrespect on to Draco. I'm not using it to get him to do anything for me or to sabotage him, just to get him to behave properly with our guardians, so he doesn't get sent down."

It wasn't entirely the truth, or at least not the full truth, but he meant it sincerely and the small parts that weren't completely honest weren't in conflict with anything else he said, so Harry trailed off without further explanation, hoping it would be enough.

"I see." The potion master answered, staring at him with a dark-goblin like gaze before clicking his teeth and glancing away - just enough that Harry could only see the outer edge of his lip turn before the man mastered his expression and nodded toward the apothecary.

"Come, I have some suggestions to add to your supply lists, being in the know, as I am to what materials will be covered this year. Too, in my presence, you might find the apothecary more willing to offer a better grade of materials than usually sold off to first years."

"What?" Harry asked in surprise. "Is that it? Aren't you going to ask..."

"Was there something else you felt the need to so unwillingly reveal?" The older wizard questioned with a thin-lipped expression that might have been a smile on a goblin, but that - on a human- Harry had no idea how to interpret.

He wasn't certain, but he thought that the potion master was playing with him like a niffler would a trapped coin, and tried to extricate himself from the question as graciously and succinctly as he could, answering: "I - I think that - that question has too many layers to answer immediately, Sir."

"Smart Boy." The potion master responded, and turned back toward the shop. "Come, Wormroot, I am quite certain I have already mentioned that the list of activities I would prefer to do before escorting schoolchildren shopping would fill..." The man paused in his response, staring down at Harry with an expectant eye that Harry hoped meant what he thought it meant.

"…a full yard of parchment, Sir." Harry filled in the remainder of his sentence, then continued in an amicably teasing manner, "Yes, I believe you've said," and hold his breath until the potion master responded.

"Then it would behoove you not to dally."

"Yes, Sir." Harry agreed and followed the man, bemused by his change in manner, and trying to work through what he'd said and figure out why it would have made such a difference.


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Gringott's Lesser Known Branch

Rating: G – with the possibility of going up

Summary: Few in the Wizarding world have a true understanding of the inner structure of the Goblin Nation or its corporate representative to the wizarding community, Gringott's Bank, much less any clue about how far they will go to protect their investments.

ブレンキン

_"The tenth inescapable rule of existence – a tarnished sickle still weighs the same."_

ブレンキン

**Gringott's Lesser Known Bank, 7**

Having collected the remainder of the supplies from their list, the Gringott's Wards met back at the spot they had parted and turned toward their last destination: Madam Malkins; though not without some balking.

This was the least necessary requirement of their unwanted shopping trip – as Gringott's customarily supplied their wardrobe at much lower prices and higher quality than they could expect to pay from the merchant. Only one irksome detail prevented this - the final line of their shopping list:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL_

_of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_UNIFORM_

_First-year students will require:_

_1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

_2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_

**_Please note that all pupils' clothes must carry the Hogwart's Academy Coat of Arms, licensed solely to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions._**

… And judging from the way that the potion master's eyebrows rose at that requirement, Harry immediately realized that it was yet one more item the Headmaster intended to manipulate. For what reason, Harry couldn't yet guess, but knowing how great a gossip Madam Malkin tended to be on her frequent visits to Gringotts, it was more than enough to be irritating.

The last thing that Harry wanted was to be put on display as a feather in the Headmaster's cap, but at the moment, he couldn't see any way to extricate himself and his charges from the unnecessary trip.

So with a glance to his charges, _Harry _steeled himself to_ enter Madam Malkin's shop _thankful that he wasn't_ alone, _and trying to hide the feeling of nervous watchfulness that had come over him on the realization that the Headmaster's agenda controlled their trip_._

_Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve._

_"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."_

_In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, freckled face and knut-copper hair was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length._

_"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"_

_"Yes," said Harry._

_"Dad's next door _with my brother's_ buying my books, and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. "_She was gonna stay here, but Madam Malkin told 'er there wasn't much trouble I could get into with her pinning me up as she is."

His tone was petulant and a bored, seeming to resent the fact that he couldn't cause trouble, and Harry took an instant dislike to his attitude, remembering – unpleasantly- how much his cousin had liked to cause trouble.

_"Then we're going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. Fred and George already have theirs, being on the Quidditch Team and all; Percy too. Doesn't seem right that I can't. I wish I could bully my dad into getting me one, and we could smuggle it in somehow. My brother's are great at smuggling things."_

The boy's blatant disrespect for the rules and his father set Harry's nerves on edge: he _was strongly reminded of Dudley._

_"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on._

_"No," said Harry answered shortly. He had taken the mandatory flying lessons in addition to his cart training, but the frivolous pass time – while enjoyable - offered little towards his accounts._

_"Play Quidditch at all?"_

_"No," Harry said again, wondering what on earth the appeal of Quidditch could be. _The goblins did have competitive sports (cart races, fencing, beast dodging and riding), but they all had the added value of developing skills that would benefit their occupations.

_"I do – Dad says it'll be a crime if I'm Gin and I aren't picked to play for my house, our whole family have played, even Perce – second year- before he got caught up in the books. Know what house you'll be in yet?"_

_"No," said Harry, feeling more irritated by the minute._

_"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Gryffindor, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, or worse, Slytherin, I think I'd leave if I got sorted into Slytherin, wouldn't you?"_

_"Mmm," _said Harry, wishing the boy would move on to another tract or at least say something a bit more interesting. Coronae Magister Magia, Manager Griphook, and he had already thoroughly discussed his house choices as had his charges and their particular managers. While it was a little known fact, and even less advertised, the Goblins had been pleased to inform them that the sorting hat could be overridden by student request, especially if and when the student could offer a reasoned argument for the house of his choosing. So far, everyone but Neville had decided on their house choice.

_"Hey, look at that man, the one __staring__ in at us!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window."Looks like a right nasty piece of work."  
_

"That's Professor Snape**," **said Harry, pleased to finally be able to comment on something without reservation, "He works at Hogwarts."

_"Oh," said the boy, _derisively_. "I've heard of him. _He was one of death eater that got away, wasn't he? So sneaky they couldn't prove he did it, but the Headmaster's seeing to him, isn't he?_ He's a sort of servant, _I've heard_."_

"He's the Potion Master," _said Harry, liking the boy less and less every second._

"Well, yeah, I heard that, but that's just cause the Headmaster wants to keep a close eye on him, isn'it? Has him making the schools potions, too, an for free. Part of his parole, I expect, not that they ever put him up on trial that I know of. My father works at the ministry, and he would have said something if one of our 'fessors was a convict. Mind you, I'm glad the Headmaster's keeping an eye on him. Him being a Slytherin, you know? Can't trust the lot of them. Hope, I never have to take one a his potions; it'd probably rot me from the inside out. "

Harry turned his gaze to the potion master- who was standing outside the window, his arms crossed over his chest and his face schooled in a forbidding visage- more easily understanding the man's animosity, if the boy was right; first being required to offer his services without reimbursement, and without a trial, and then being asked to lower himself to the task of an hourly child-minder. If that were his given field, there would be no shame in the task, but where his mastery was in potions, it was a demeaning task to be forced to- without recompense.

_"I think I've heard that he's quite brilliant, in his field," said Harry coldly._

_"Did you? Like it even matters how bright someone is when they've mucked about in the filth he has," said the boy, with a grimace._

"A tarnished sickle still weighs the same," Harry replied, trying to hold his temper and his tongue.

The redhead stared at him blankly for several seconds before challenging, _"That's an odd thing to say. Pretty sure the git doesn't have any kids; why is he with you, anyway? Where are your parents?"_

_"They're dead," said Harry shortly. He didn't feel much like going into the matter with this boy._

"Oh, sorry," said the other, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were _our _kind, weren't they?"

_"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."_

"It's okay if they're not, you know." the boy hurriedly answered, though hardly sounding sincere, "It's just it's got to be harder being one of the other sort, don't you think?_ They're just not the same; they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter. Imagine! What's your surname, anyway?"_

_But before Harry could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and Harry, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool._

_"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," the boy commented._

Professor Snape sent Neville in next, then Blaise, then Taylor, and Millicent, before finally sending Draco in, after the red-haired boy's mother had finally returned to collect the boy. Harry thoroughly agreed, and – even though Draco groused at being last - Harry thought it had been a wise move, given how blunt and biased the boy had been just in Harry's presence. There was no telling how outspoken and insulting he would have been to Draco, whose father had made their surname notorious and whose own appearance was easily recognized due to the Daily Prophet's coverage of the abuse that landed Draco in Gringott's care.

With Draco's measurements finally taken, Harry and the others turned back toward Gringotts, all quite glad to be headed back, when Professor Snape cleared his throat, stopping them in their tracks.

"Mr. Potter, I do believe that you have neglected to make your most essential purchase."

"Sir?"

"Your wands, Mr. Potter."

"Oh, I apologize. I'm afraid that there may have been a miss-communication. Gringott's wards are required to purchase the materials to construct personalized wands almost immediately on being taken into Gringott's care. Our first lessons in transfiguration and runes focus on creating student wands to be used until our majority."

"I see, an unorthodox practice that our Headmaster may not strictly approve of." The potion master commented mildly.

"Perhaps not;" Harry agreed, perhaps a little too pleased to be at the possibility of thwarting at least one of the Headmaster's manipulations, "however, the ministry has long sanctioned early tutoring for heirs to offset the later impact of estate management studies and tasks not required of the general student body."

"As you say, not unorthodox, at all; however, I am certain that the Headmaster would not wish you to miss the traditional visit to Olivanders." Whether it was Professor Snape's mild response, so counter to his usual acerbic manner; the fact that he didn't simply order them to the shop; or the fact that he too turned back toward Gringotts; Harry couldn't say, but by the time they reached the inner silver doors, he had the distinct feeling that the professor was pleased with his choice.

Despite everything, the 'outing' had been more tolerable than Harry had expected it to be. In reflection of that fact, when he turned, in parting, to the Professor, Harry bowed respectfully low, as he might have to one of his managers and thanked the startled man … and several nearby bank clients.

"Professor Snape, I thank you for your accompaniment. Your advice on the quality of materials at the apothecary was highly valuable. Thank you, again."

After a quick, but surreptitious glance, the potion master replied with superficial equanimity, "Mr. Potter, as my services have been preformed, I will bid you a pleasant day... You may call upon me, in the future, if you require further consultation."

Harry thought he was the only one close enough to see the slight tinge of embarrassment color the man's sallow complexion, until he heard Draco's soft murmur of exaltation.

"I am honored by the offer, Professor, and look forward to September 1st."

Professor Snape nodded, before turning with a swirl of his cloak and exiting without a further word.

The other charges, except Draco, had dispersed by the time the doors closed behind the potion master. Draco paused to search Harry's face before he finally nodded and turned to go his own way, having seemed to come to some decision. Whether it was about Harry, the potion master, or some other matter, Harry couldn't say, but Harry didn't have time to consider it, at that moment.

Manager Griphook and the Coronae Magister Magia were waiting for him to report on the outing and to compare his impressions of the outing with those of the human Gringott's employee who had been assigned to follow and protect the heirs.


End file.
